Part 21

It appears that on his last morning in New York, the Baron found that his note-book had been taken from his room in the hotel. His servant and his baggage had already gone on to the steamer, and the Baron prepared to follow. First, however, as he still had two hours to spare, he thought he would take a final glimpse of Fifth Avenue. These are the little accidents which generally decide our fate in life--the visit to some friend, the call on a stranger, the unpremeditated walk. As the Baron was passing along, a carriage suddenly stopped, a 'fashionably-dressed gentleman' jumped out, and ran up to the traveller with a cordial salutation. He introduced himself as a guest who had dined, with the Baron, at a dinner given by Lord Augustus Loftus in Sydney. 'I am one of the admirers,' he said, 'of your "Promenade autour du Monde," and I venture to ask you to do me the favour of writing your name in my copy of that book. In return, pray accept a volume of Longfellow's poems, with the author's autograph.' The fashionable stranger had skilfully touched the weak place in an author's heart. Baron Huebner consented to be driven back to his hotel, where his new friend was also residing. On the way, the stranger suddenly bethought himself that the two books were at the house of an acquaintance, 'two steps from the hotel.' He put his head out of the window, gave some fresh directions to the coachman, and the Baron soon found himself being whirled along at a furious rate along streets which he did not recognize. Still, the old traveller had no suspicion of anything wrong. His voyages and adventures certainly seem to have left him in a more than ordinarily unsophisticated condition. At last the carriage stopped, our author was conducted into the dark passage of a small house, and then into a little dirty room, where he found a tall man seated before a table, with his back to a mirror. In that mirror, the Baron saw his dear friend from Sydney gently lock the door, and put the key in his pocket. Then he understood all about it.

Of course the tall man was polite, and after promising to go and fetch the volume of Longfellow, he proposed to the gentleman from Sydney a game at cards. While the two men played their sham game, the Baron had time to reflect; he saw that he had been pounced upon very skilfully--in less than two hours the 'Bothnia' would sail, all the people at the hotel would think he had gone by her, no one would miss him, no one would search for him. He might be murdered with impunity--with what impunity the Baron would have fully realized if he had known a little more of New York. No city in the world presents greater facilities for getting rid of the evidences of foul play. We have not seen the recent statistics of murders in New York, and doubt whether they have been published; but in the five years between 1870 and 1875, we happen to know that 281 'homicides' were committed there, and that only seven of the murderers were hanged. Twenty-four were sent to prison--nominally for life, although that is a mere form--and more than one-fourth of the criminals were never brought to trial at all. If Baron Huebner had known all this, he would have regarded his two new acquaintances with even greater interest than he did.

How and why they let him go scot-free is to us a mystery. They invited him to take a hand in the game, and he declined. They pretended to play for him; won, and offered him the stakes. He told them he had no money with him, that they would get nothing for their trouble, that the French Consul was to meet him on board the 'Bothnia' to bid him adieu; if he were not there a hue and cry at once would be raised. 'Then,' adds the Baron, 'turning to my friend from Sydney, I said to him, "Open the door." The ruffians gave in without further trouble. There was an exchange of looks between them, and the tall man said to the other, 'show him out.' We have heard of many strange things happening in New York, but never of one so strange as that.' When I stepped upon the deck of the "Bothnia," says the Baron, 'a few minutes before departure, I felt that I had had a narrow escape.' Very narrow; we should advise Baron Huebner, if ever again he finds himself in New York, not to tempt his good fortune by taking a drive with strangers who admire his writings.

For the novel and stirring incidents of travel, we must turn to Mr. Romilly's narrative of his experiences in the Western Pacific. He transports us to a comparatively little known region, and it was his good or ill fortune to come into contact with phases of life which must, it is to be hoped, for ever remain unknown to most of us. Few living men, for instance, have been present at a great feast on human flesh, cannibalism being one of the habits of savage life which is found to yield at the first touch of civilization. In New Ireland, however, Mr. Romilly happened to be present at a sort of state banquet, given in honour of a victory over the enemy. The enemy himself supplied the materials of the repast. The details of the preparation of the horrible food may be read in Mr. Romilly's pages by all who have a curiosity on the subject. Some few particulars concerning a compound called 'Sak-sak' may here be given:--

'They, [the heads of the victims] were then disposed of in various ways, and when I asked what would be done with them, I was told, "They will go to improve the sak-sak." The natives on the East coast of New Ireland prepare a very excellent composition of sago and cocoa-nut, called sak-sak. I used to buy a supply of this every morning, as it would not keep, for my men. Now it appeared that for the next week or so, a third ingredient would be added to the sak-sak, namely, brains. I need hardly say that for the next two days of my stay I did not taste sak-sak, though my men made no secret of doing so. The flesh in the ovens had to be cooked for three days, or until the tough leaves in which it was wrapped were nearly consumed. When taken out of the ovens the method of eating it is as follows. The head of the eater is thrown back, somewhat after the fashion of an Italian eating macaroni. The leaf is opened at one end, and the contents are pressed into the mouth until they are finished. As Bill, my interpreter put it, "they cookum that fellow three day; by-and-by cookum finish, that fellow all same grease." For days afterwards, when everything is finished, they abstain from washing, lest the memory of the feast should be too fleeting.'

Mr. Romilly was informed by the natives that human flesh tastes even better than pork. One is satisfied to take their word for it. In the New Hebrides it appears that the people prefer to eat it dried, or 'jerked.' At present, we are told,

'the cannibals in the world may be numbered by millions. Probably a third of the natives of the country where I am now writing (New Guinea) are cannibals; so are about two-thirds of the occupants of the New Hebrides, and the same proportion of the Solomon Islanders. All the natives of the Santa Cruz group, Admiralties, Hermits, Louisiade, Engineer, D'Entrecasteaux groups are cannibals, and even some well-authenticated cases have occurred among the "black fellows" of Northern Australia. I do not know that the fact of a native being a cannibal makes him a greater savage. Some of the most treacherous savages on this coast are undoubtedly not cannibals, while most of the Louisiade cannibals are a mild-tempered, pleasant set of men.'

This testimony can do no harm in England, but it is to be hoped that Mr. Romilly will not repeat it too often among his black friends, or the moral of it might be misunderstood.

The Solomon Islands still form a part of the world of which very little is known. They are rarely visited, and travellers who have gone for the purpose of 'taking notes,' have either altered their minds in good season, or never returned. Some years ago, Mr. Benjamin Boyd, a member of the Royal Yacht Squadron went out in his yacht, the 'Wanderer,' and was captured by the natives. Search was made for him from time to time, and his initials were found carved on trees. A notice was placed on all the goods sent to the natives to this effect: 'B. B., we are looking for you'--but no tidings were ever heard of the missing man. Mr. Romilly was told by the captain of a labour schooner that somewhere on the south coast he had noticed a European skull in a sort of temple; he recognized it as European from its size, and he also observed that one of the teeth was stopped with gold. We take it for granted that the dentists among the Solomon Islanders do not use gold for filling teeth. This, then, was probably the skull of the hapless owner of the 'Wanderer.' The Solomon Islanders now make a practice of killing white men, if it can be done safely, in revenge for the way in which they have been 'kidnapped' for the labour traffic. The diseases introduced by their treacherous white friends have made terrible ravages among them, and their own habits tend still further to reduce their numbers. There are several places,' says Mr. Romilly, 'where it is the custom to kill all, or nearly all, of the children soon after they are born.' This is the only region we ever heard of where so frightful and unnatural a custom exists. Female children are, or used to be, destroyed in many countries; but the indiscriminate slaughter of all children is decidedly uncommon. These islanders have another device which is supported by an argument not entirely devoid of strength. 'In a battle the victorious party, if they can surprise their enemies sufficiently to admit of a wholesale massacre, kill not only the men, but also the women and children. "We should be fools," say they, "if we did not. This must be revenged some day, if there are any men to do it; but how can they get men if we kill the women and children?"' The same thought has doubtless occurred to modern conquerors elsewhere, though, happily, circumstances have not enabled them to carry it into practical effect. Some other curious details respecting this group of islands, are given by Mr. Romilly. The old women it appears, become adepts in the occult sciences, and the men occasionally find the trade of wizard lucrative. They are chiefly called upon to bring about a change in the weather, and their plan of operations is to gain time. It resembles, in some striking features, the method adopted by the 'inspired statesman' of our own latitudes when he is trying to feel his way towards the development of some scheme which he is half afraid of himself, and which the public view with profound suspicion. Surely the most of us could find a counterpart to the individual described in the following passage:--

'One old sorcerer of my acquaintance was a most interesting study. If he was asked for fine weather (which, by the way, in the Solomons is the usual request, the rainfall being enormous), he used to temporize in a truly masterly manner. First he would hold out for more payment. This policy he could continue for an indefinite length of time, as he would of course require payment in a form which he knew was difficult or impossible for the natives to comply with. Then, if he thought there was any likelihood of fine weather for a day or two, he would become possessed of a devil which would leave him at once if the sun made its appearance, but if the bad weather lasted the devil would last too; and finally, if the bad weather was very obstinate and would not come, he would hold out again for more payment. In this manner my old sorcerer was very seldom mistaken in his forecasts, and the influence he exerted over the clerk of the weather must have been very irksome to that functionary.

This leader of his tribe, we are further informed, had a 'great hold over the imagination of his dupes.' We are more civilized--or _we_ think so--than the islanders of the Western Pacific; but human nature is pretty much the same there as here. As for the philosophy of such matters, it is thus summed up by Mr. Romilly: 'I have often wondered what the sorcerer thinks of himself; whether he really believes himself to be a magician, or whether he realizes the fact that he is an arrant old humbug. I think there is a mixture of both feelings.' It would be useless to pursue this enquiry any further.

Another of the unexplored islands of these seas forms a part of the Admiralty group, and is called Jesus Maria. It was visited by the 'Challenger' in 1875, and again by Mr. Romilly on two occasions, the last in 1881, in H.M.S. 'Beagle.' The natives, a fierce and warlike race, crowded round the vessel, eager to sell everything they had including their babies. Bottles and hoop-iron were eagerly sought for. While engaged in carrying on this simple traffic, the party on board noticed, to their amazement a white man on shore who fired off a gun to attract their attention. The next day a boat rowed to the beach, and there stood the white man. He proved to be a Scotchman named David Dow, who was collecting _beche de mer_, and found his trade prospects so good that he desired to remain where he was. The Admiralty Islanders have some 'very singular customs,' not to be met with anywhere else; but after thus piquing our curiosity, Mr. Romilly ruthlessly balks it by remarking 'that they are, unfortunately, of a nature which cannot be described here.' We share his regret upon his being obliged to keep the secret; for when a traveller has found out anything absolutely fresh and startling, common humanity should, in these dull and overcast times, induce him to disclose it. But no doubt Mr. Romilly has his reasons for silence, and we must submit to them. The Germans have recently hoisted their flag upon several of these islands, and we may trust them to tell all that they can find out, and more.

In the Laughlan islands--a small group--the Germans are also to be found. Indeed, they are spreading rapidly, over the Pacific Isles. As the spirit of adventure is dying out among Englishmen, it appears to be increasing in other nations. The genius for colonization appears to have fled from us to Germany. Certain it is that Germans are everywhere displaying that daring and enterprise in which we once shone above all other people in the world. They will probably end by becoming masters of the larger part of the Western Pacific. As for the Laughlan Islands, it cannot be said that any one whose lot takes him there need be regarded as an object of pity. The climate is good; food is abundant; life is tolerably easy. True, there are no newspapers and no Parliament; but existence has often been found supportable in the absence of these things. The natives are friendly; and there are no animals anywhere, not even rats. The men are decently clad, and the women wear a very voluminous kilt, sometimes two or three of them, over each other. These garments are made of grass, leaves, or fibre, stained various colours. 'In wearing two or three, care is taken to produce an aesthetic mixture of colours--a little vanity which is met with sometimes at home amongst ladies who like to display petticoats of many colours. It is considered just as essential here to walk well as it is at home, but the two styles are not quite the same. The Laughlan lady, in walking, at each step gives a little twist to the hips, which has the effect of making the kilts fly out right and left, in what is considered a highly fashionable and beautiful manner. Though a somewhat similar effect to this may, I am informed, occasionally be seen in petticoats at home, still I fear that the firm stride of the Laughlan lady could hardly be reproduced in English boots. To see ten or twelve of these ladies walking in the unsociable formation of single file, which they adopt, with their many-coloured kilts flying out on either side, is a very pretty sight.' Evidently, a judicious traveller and observer might do worse than take a tour to the Laughlans.

Two other interesting spots to visit are Thursday Island and Norfolk Island, both British possessions, and the first a place of some importance, as the centre of the Torres Straits pearl-shell fishery. This trade has demoralized the natives, who now seem to spend a great part of their time in getting drunk, the Europeans too often setting the example, 'It is a common thing,' says Mr. Romilly, 'for a diver to go down three-parts drunk. The dress is supposed to have a very sobering effect.' Here is a little story which will produce a pang of regret in the minds of the jewellers of Bond Street:--

'The best pearl I ever saw was in the possession of a celebrated diver who was a shipmate of mine from Thursday Island to Brisbane. He was offered on board the ship two hundred pounds for it, which could not have been a third of its value. But he refused every offer, as he had just been paid off, and had plenty of money. I felt sure it would go the way of all pearls when his money was finished, and accordingly I informed a Sydney jeweller of it, and where he could see it. When I was in Sydney a few weeks later I made inquiries about it, and the jeweller told me that it was the finest pear-shaped pearl he had ever seen, but that it was unsaleable at its proper value in Australia, and he had therefore made no attempt to buy it.'

But the pearl fishery on these coasts is becoming less lucrative every year, and it is now falling almost entirely into the hands of natives, who can stay under water longer than men of our own race, and seem to be endowed with greater powers of endurance. As for the 'labour trade' of which we all have heard so much, Mr. Romilly gives us to understand that it is dying out. It arose under the stimulus which the American war gave to cotton growing, and to the sudden necessity for procuring assistance for the planters. At first, the natives were found ready enough to volunteer for the service, but the treatment they received was not calculated to encourage the spirit of volunteering. Then all sorts of artifices were tried to deceive them. Sometimes the labour-hunters pretended to be missionaries. 'On the usual question being asked, "Where shippy come?" they would reply, "Missionary." Perhaps they would all pretend to sing a hymn very slowly, while the hatches would be left open, and several tins of biscuits would be put into the hold.' Curiosity would gradually draw the natives aboard, and then the hatches would be clapped on, and the man-stealers made off for Queensland or Fiji. It is to be hoped that Mr. Romilly is right in stating that these practices have ceased, but unless we are mistaken, accounts have appeared in colonial journals, within a very recent period, of organized raids upon these coasts for the purpose of carrying off the natives. It is needless to say, that a sentiment of hostility to all white men is likely to remain as the permanent result of this abominable system.

The fact is, that the white men who had the run of these islands down to a few years ago were chiefly the off-scourings of other countries. They found among the savages far fewer vices than they brought with them from the civilized world. Some of them had run away to escape from the vengeance of the laws which they had outraged; others were attracted by the freedom which an entirely new life opened up to them. From them have sprung a brood of half-castes who are the curse of the islands--like many other half-castes, they manage to combine the evil qualities of both races. The chief traders along the Pacific are now becoming much more respectable. Some of them, indeed, appear to emulate the style and condition of the prosperous English merchant. Mr. Romilly knows such a man, living 'within a day's march' of the wildest cannibals in the Pacific, who keeps up an establishment of forty or fifty men, with a French _chef_. 'In a hitherto almost unknown island, he will give you a dinner, every night, which could not be equalled at any private house or club in Australia.' He keeps a yacht for private exploring expeditions, and is to-day the principal 'trader and pioneer in the Pacific.' A narrative of his observations and experiences would be of very unusual interest, but like the Russian settler before referred to, he reserves for his own benefit the knowledge he has acquired. The Germans are pushing us hard, and in many respects they are better fitted for their work than English traders. There seems a fair prospect of a gradual elevation of social as well as of commercial life throughout the Pacific. Already, lawlessness is discouraged. Not so very many years ago, piracy was carried on openly in these seas. Mr. Romilly gives a very interesting and curious account of one of the last pirates, a desperado known as 'Bully Hayes,' once a boatman on the Mississippi. This man began life by robbing his father, and soon afterwards made his appearance on the Pacific coast the proud proprietor of a fifty-ton schooner. 'How he had obtained possession of this schooner,' says Mr. Romilly, 'was a matter of surmise, but he had been seen at Singapore not long before this time, and a fifty-ton schooner had mysteriously disappeared from that port without the knowledge of her captain and owner.' He carried on a bold career of plunder for many years, and only came to grief at last by an accident which he could not have foreseen. He had stolen another vessel, and was making for some of his favourite haunts along the coast, when the cook, who was steering, happened to give him some offence. At that time, Hayes was accustomed to settle all disputes off-handed with his revolver, and in accordance with this plan he ran below to get his 'shooting irons.' Mr. Romilly thus relates the sequel:--

'The cook objected, and, catching up the first piece of wood he saw, got on to the top of the little deck-house over the ladder, and, the moment Hayes showed his head above deck, gave him a blow which killed him on the spot. This cook seems to have been some what doubtful as to whether Hayes was even now dead, so he fetched the largest anchor the cutter possessed, and bound the body to it, after which he hove anchor and body overboard, remarking, "For sure Massa Hayes dead this time."'